Ships in the Night
by ray4ruffles
Summary: they didn't expect to find each other, and they certainly didn't expect to share their crosses.  a night to remember that they all will forget.  Quick; Puckleberry friendship- more angsty than i usually write
1. Chapter 1

**A/N Originally I wrote this as one chapter, but it got way too long. So now it's four, but it may read a little choppy in the transition- my bad.**

* * *

_Ships that pass in the night, and speak each other in passing;_

_Only a signal shown, and a distant voice in the darkness..._

* * *

How did Rachel get here? She couldn't really remember. Not the physical getting here; she wasn't _that_ drunk. She remembers perfectly her fathers' voices, lecturing her on training and discipline and whatnot; she remembers lying awake in her room; and she remembers slipping out of the house with two handles of Jack, a blanket, and her rape whistle and some pepper spray in her bag. She remembers walking to the park and organizing her spread. And she definitely remembers the delightful burn as she took that first swallow of whiskey.

No; what Rachel couldn't figure is how she had gone from being alone to being surrounded by three other Glee Clubbers—how did Rachel Berry, Quinn Fabray, Kurt Hummel, and Noah Puckerman all end up sitting together, sharing her Jack Daniels?

She'd been surprised when Noah had appeared, his already inebriated swagger evident as he approached her.

"Whoa Berry," he told her as she reached for the mace, allowing Rachel to recognize the voice and return to her relaxed position. He appraised her, and chuckled incredulously. "Shit Berry; did you hit rock bottom or something? What—didn't get a solo?"

She ignored him and turned back to her drink. Puck studied her and noticed the expertise in her consumption; looking at the two handles, one missing what he approximated as four shots, he realized that, though she was prissy and perfect by day, during the midnight hours there was a whole other Rachel Berry.

He didn't ask if he could join her; just sat near her on a corner of the blanket. He did extend his hand in a silent request for the bottle however—though he'd brought his own flask, he could really use something good tonight. And she had obligingly handed it over just as wordlessly.

When Kurt appeared, she actually wasn't as shocked; he lived closer to this place than she did, and she had seen him here numerous times—just usually in the day or early evening. They normally ignored each other-after all, they weren't friends- but she could see in his face that the thoughts plaguing his mind were just too much for him to even care that he was sitting next to Rachel Berry, much less be surprised that they were together on a blanket with Puck sharing a bottle of whiskey.

Quinn, funny enough, was the only one that seemed hesitant; little girl lost even. Rachel was too buzzed by then to be surprised, but she watched the blonde wander aimlessly into the park, at first sitting on a bench looking at nothing, then, upon spying their little group, joining them shyly. It wasn't like her to be shy, Rachel thought vaguely. Maybe she'd just fallen out of habit of being head bitch.

If they'd been sober-if it'd been day time- they would've all found this scene strange, if not impossible. The four of them sitting together, boy-girl-boy-girl, silently passing around a bottle of hard alcohol, was just about unfathomable.

Rachel was used to the calm and quiet—that was the whole point of being here. So it ended up being Puck who finally broke it.

"Fuck my life," he said, raising the bottle to his lips for the however many times.

Everyone looked at him, surprised that he'd said anything. However, Rachel, diva that she was, was not going to let the comment stand on its own.

"Shut it Puckerman," she bit crossly. "What the hell are you complaining about?"

"It's just a saying Berry," he replied, a little taken back by her intensity. "What's your deal?"

Rachel shook her head, trying to clear it. If they were going to talk (which was _not_ why she came here), then she'd need to be able to think past the equivalent of five shots.

"Nothing; I'm just irritated tonight, and I was hoping some solitude would resolve my malcontent."

Puck groaned as he passed the bottle to Quinn—only Berry'd be able to still spit out SAT words while getting plastered. "No way Berry; this isn't your style."

"I have to agree with Puck," Kurt spoke up. He had learned his lesson since the last time someone had offered him alcohol, and so had been trying to limit his intake, allowing him to maintain a nice buzz. "Your normal method of catharsis would be belting out a tune." He giggled at the thought. "Preferably in front of an audience."

Rachel rolled her eyes and took the bottle from Kurt. They didn't know her, had barely ever seen her outside of school. She silently took another drink and passed it to back to Noah.

"Rachel's right though Puck," Quinn stated, downing her first alcohol in maybe ten months as the bottle came to her. "What the hell do you have to complain about?"

Puck stared at her. He was going to say something he would regret later, he knew it. "What do I have to complain about?" he repeated, snatching the bottle. "How about the fact that I just dropped my daughter like my own deadbeat dad did?" He downed a good part of the remaining contents before coming back up for air. "I hate my dad," he said, his fury toward his father equally balanced with his own self-loathing. "And now I am him."

"Parent's suck," Rachel spoke up, and the rest of the group turned to her in surprise at her succinctness. She looked back at them, calm and even as she reached over and took the bottle from Puck. "They are despondent voids that are destined to do nothing more than traumatize their children in order to make up for the awful experiences that they themselves endured." She smiled as she took the last sip of the handle. "It's an eternally damning cycle."

Quinn nodded in agreement. "An eternally damning cycle," she murmured to herself as she opened the other bottle. "Anyways," she continued offhandedly. "Your dad left; _mine_ kicked me out when he found out I _wasn't_ perfect, and _was_ pregnant."

She handed the bottle off to Kurt, who seemed to ponder it for awhile. He shrugged his shoulders in a classic _what the hell_ gesture, and took another sip before revealing, "My dad loves his girlfriend's son more than he does me." He scoffed. "I guess I'm too…challenging."

He passed the bottle on to Rachel, eyebrows arching as if daring her to top his words. She took the bottle and tipped it upwards. "Stage parents," she explained simply.

"That should be perfect for you Berry; you're a born star, remember?" Puck told her, reaching for the bottle. She jerked it away, glaring at him.

"Are you serious Noah?" her eyes widened in disbelief. "Do you have any idea what it's like to have had five different sets of lessons per week since you were three years old? _Vocal, acting, ballet, tap, jazz!_ Does it ever occur to you that I would love to eat a pizza smothered in cheese, or ice cream laden with syrup and marshmallow fluff? That I would love to just sit in my room doing _nothing_ for a weekend?"

She leaned back, her arms behind her to support her weight as she stared upwards. She knew what they'd thought: that she loved the life she claimed was hers, that it was everything she wanted (with the possible exception of her lack of popularity and the consistent slushie-facials). That her family supported her decision, not made it for her.


	2. Chapter 2

She didn't look at them, just the stars as she explained, "I love to sing; I do. And I do want to get on stage and perform and have my name in lights—someday. However, _now_, I'd just really like to dial it down a notch: maybe be a teenager. You know," she met their faces with a wry smile. "Have some of those life experiences that people are always talking about?"

Kurt chuckled as he took the bottle from her and brought it to his lips. He vaguely wondered how much he'd had.

"Experiences," he scoffed, smirking. "You mean like being in love with your likely soon-to-be step-brother, who will never love _you_ because he's straight?"

Rachel smiled apologetically as he passed the bottle to Quinn. "Or being in love with a goof so obsessed with his reputation he continually hurts you—only to have you continually forgive him?"

Quinn put the bottle down and shook her head, snickering. "Or being so in love with said guy, so scared of losing him, that you were willing to ruin his life by telling him someone else's kid was his?"

The three of them laughed out loud at their idiocy and looked to Puck, now holding the bottle. He stared back at them, shaking his head as he said, "Sorry; I'm not in love with Finn."

As he tipped back the bottle, the rest got caught in a serious case of the giggles. He finished his drink and laughed with them, then let out a sigh as his shoulders slumped in guilt. "I do feel bad for letting him down, though; going behind his back," he muttered. "He was-is- my best friend, and I feel like I was a jealous shit doing it." His expression brightened, however, as Quinn crawled toward him and gave him a consolatory kiss. He took her face in his hands and smiled as his tongue slid into her mouth. It didn't bother him that she'd loved Finn first; it just mattered that he had her now.

Rachel smiled and contented herself by gazing back at the heavens. Kurt, however, was not nearly so patient, and soon cleared his throat pointedly, causing Quinn to giggle in chagrin as she slid back to her seat.

"Anyways," Puck continued, pointing at Rachel with the bottle, "at least you can live up to your parents' expectations. I have to come home every day to see my ma's disappointment in me permanently drawn on her face." He took another drink.

"Please," Rachel told him as he passed it to Quinn. "My mother decided she would rather play happy families with _your_ kid than try to have a relationship with me—and that's _after_ sending some guy to weasel into my life and pretend to be my boyfriend."

"My mom is a spineless alcoholic who waited until my dad's hypocrisy affected _her_ to give a crap about me," Quinn threw in as she took another sip. Only Puck and Rachel were really going at it still; she and Kurt seemed content with their level of drunkenness. Those two seemed to be out to prove something.

"My mom's dead; kind of brings abandonment to a whole new level," Kurt said bitterly. " I mean, not that it was her fault, but it pisses me off that she isn't here—now, especially, when I need her."

There was a long beat of silence, and he felt a little bad when he realized he'd killed the mood. He looked at Rachel and shrugged uneasily. "Guess that kind of ruins the 'parent's suck' plight doesn't it?" he asked her, handing off the bottle. "_Needing_ them? _Wanting_ them there?"

She put a hand on his shoulder and smiled softly. "Nope; it's worse—because now _you_ feel guilty that _they_ suck." He smiled and the others relaxed.

Puck sighed, as he took another swig. "I think I'm tired of being angry." God damn it; now he was acting _girl drunk_—they were doing feelings.

"I think I'm tired of being driven," Rachel told him.  
"I think I'm tired of being myself," Kurt voiced.

"I think I'm tired of all _this talk_," Quinn all but shouted, once again on her knees as she crawled over and pulled Puck toward her face. She giggled as they hit the blanket.

Rachel disentangled herself from their mess, standing unsteadily as she began to walk toward the playground. She made it to the swings before she realized Kurt had followed her.

They both sat, neither swinging because they were way too drunk, listening to the giggles and moans from twenty-some odd feet away.

Suddenly, the entirety of Kurt's stomach was emptied on the ground. Rachel tried to push back with her feet, forgetting she was on a swing and therefore falling backward onto the ground just behind him.

They both groaned softly. Kurt spoke first. "I really could've done without this part of the evening," he told her, coughing up what was still in his throat.

"The two of them going at it on my blanket, or you throwing up?" she asked him, rubbing the back of her head. She laughed when he answered "Both."

"We may as well let them have their moment," Rachel said wistfully as she heard Quinn squeal in delight.

"Hey," Kurt warned her, lifting his head slightly to meet her eyes. "Don't start that pity party again."

She smiled, running her pinched thumb and index finger across her pressed lips to signify the "zipped lip" saying.

They sat in silence again. Kurt wasn't sure if it was because he was drunk, but he decided he didn't really like quiet Rachel; it was just unnerving.

"I always thought your diva 'tude was natural," he admitted, deciding he'd rather have her talk.

Rachel was thoughtful for a moment. "Maybe it is," she told him. "I don't really know. It's what I've always been told to be: the _most_ driven, the _most_ talented—the next star on Broadway. Maybe I've been this so long it _is_ who I am—at least to some extent."

"Then who are you now?"

"The other Rachel Berry: the adolescent who, at thirteen, didn't get to go to a party because of an audition; didn't go to sporting events because of rehearsals and training. And so she decided to steal from her fathers' liquor cabinet and come out to the park and live a little." She smiled up at him. "Until tonight, it's just been me. It's kind of nice not being alone."

There was a pause in their conversation while Kurt retched again, though there was less to bring up now. Rachel guided him to the water fountain at the edge of the wood chips, then to a bench on the grass.

"So why did you set up your dad and Finn's mom if you wanted Finn?" she asked him.

"I wanted to get closer to Finn," Kurt explained sheepishly. "I guess I didn't think it would work out as well for our parents as it has." He paused. "Or as awkwardly for us."

He sighed. "I mean, at least he loves you," he continued. "He told you so himself, and he's always making those puppy eyes at you—even when it was him and Quinn."

Rachel sighed. "Yeah; I guess I just didn't expect for it to be so hard to work. He's so indecisive, so insecure; I'm just afraid I'm jumping out of the frying pan into the fire."

"I guess I just can't relate really," Kurt told her. "I'm still waiting for mine." He sighed and laughed wryly. "Not really a lot of opportunity for a gay kid in this cow town."

Rachel smiled kindly as she put a hand on his shoulder. "It'll happen; after all, you're a Cheerio. _All_ Cheerios get action."

He gave her a skeptical look. "Yes, I'm sure my coming out and joining the Cheerios will cause a pouring forth of male specimens to line up at my door." Their eyes met and they began giggling again.


	3. Chapter 3

Puck and Quinn weren't having sex; he hadn't brought a condom, she wasn't taking anything, and honestly, they were both gun-shy from the last time. But they were definitely broaching lewd conduct as she pulled him on top of her and they kissed and groped like they hadn't seen each other in years.

He knew that her burden was his fault; if he hadn't knocked her up, it wouldn't have mattered that her dad was a damned hypocrite and her mom was a spineless lush. She'd still be with Finn, and…he couldn't bring himself to draw the natural conclusion. Puck wouldn't have her. He cared about her too much, was too selfish, to even wish in his head that he'd never slept with her. As his hand traveled under her jeans, squeezing her ass and drawing her closer still, he felt she was his—smart and perky and sharp. She was the good girl every badass (hell every _guy_) dreamed about.

And he never dwelled on his problems when he was with Quinn. Even if he wasn't…_ preoccupied_ right now, he wouldn't be thinking about the crap he dealt with at home. He barely remembered why he'd been out tonight to forget his troubles. All that mattered was that he was in her arms, and that she wanted _him_.

Quinn adored Puck; she wouldn't say it during her pregnancy, but the fact that he was so stubborn about supporting her and Beth even when she pushed him away meant a lot, and even more that he'd supported her decision to give her up even when it was the last thing he wanted; that it killed him to do it. She wasn't sure when she'd be ready for sex again, or if she and Puck would end up staying together, but he was here now, and she loved it. If she was honest, she loved _him_. Puck pushed her buttons, made her think. He never let her slide, never made it too easy like Finn did. She felt that it made her stronger; that it was Puck, not Finn, that made her want to be independent and _alive_.

That didn't stop her from being scared. Getting pregnant had changed everything; even though her mom had kicked out her father and she'd moved back in, the woman still couldn't look Quinn in the eye anymore. Quinn had a feeling that her mother was more disappointed that she'd chosen to give Beth up than that she'd gotten pregnant in the first place. And, truth be told, she still wasn't sure she completely forgave herself for either action anways. She felt out of place, no longer a good girl or the head cheerleader; starting from the bottom rung to even be considered a goddess again next fall. Just a big disappointment wherever she turned.

* * *

Kurt nodded slowly, suddenly standing. Rachel rose to his side as he wobbled, but stayed on his feet as he unevenly marched toward the blanket.

"That's enough, you two," he stated. "If the rest of us cannot enjoy the fruits of such temptation, then you shouldn't be able to either." He eyed them sternly, then abruptly collapsed on the blanket, falling asleep.

Rachel quickly knelt next to him, checking his breathing and pinching him hard. She relaxed and sat down when he smacked her hand, rolling over to his other side.

"He's alright," she assured them. "Just tired and drunk."

Quinn slowly (and awkwardly) stood, grabbing her sweater. "He's not the only one: I should probably get home," she told them. She turned to Puck. "Call me later?" She smiled as he nodded in confirmation and turned back the way she'd come.

"Is she going to be okay?" Rachel asked him, gesturing to the blonde. He simply nodded. He'd noticed she wasn't as drunk as the rest of them (though still pretty far gone), and that she'd stolen Berry's pepper spray on her way out.

Rachel nodded, relaxing her posture. "And then there were two—are you heading out then Noah?"

Puck shrugged, screwing the lid back on the half-full handle and giving it back to her. She placed it securely in her bag and laid on the blanket, staring skyward.

"So how did you get a hold of those anyways Berry?" he asked her.

"These were donated by the family liquor cabinet," she answered simply.

"And your dads won't notice they're missing a bottle and a half?" he prodded in disbelief.

"They rarely drink; it's mostly for show. I'll water down this one and they'll just think they forgot to restock the last time they had company." She said it so matter-of-factly, he wondered how often she'd pulled this kind of stunt.

He turned to his side, watching her watching the skies. "Why are you here Berry?"

She didn't move. "Why are you?"

Puck smiled, "Didn't feel like hanging out with Chang; told my ma I'd be there. Just wanted to think I guess."

"Think about what?"

"Just shit in general."

She snorted. "How eloquent."

"Shut up Berry," he retorted. "Not all of us like to memorize the dictionary in our spare time" He met her gaze. "What about you?" he asked again. "What pushed you out here? And with two bottles of Jackie D?"

"I told you; I was irritated."

"By your dads." It was a guess, but he was pretty certain he wasn't wrong.

"By a lot of things Noah; things that a person such as yourself wouldn't understand," she retorted, and he swore he could _hear_ her eyes roll.

"Why? Because I'm just a Lima Loser?"

Rachel sat up, turning to face him. He exacerbated her to no end with his cluelessness—sometimes he was worse than Finn. "Of course not, Noah. I've told you; you have the potential to do pretty much anything you set your mind to. But it's _your _decision Noah; _your _motivation that drives you to your goal. I'm not sure whether this was ever my dream or always theirs."

She hated admitting this out loud: that she had been groomed to be what she was for so long that she didn't even know if it was what she wanted. It seemed that she, Rachel Berry, should be the last person to let someone tell her who she should be. And yet she wondered if that was who she'd been all along.


	4. Chapter 4

Puck took a long hard look at the Rachel Berry that sat before him. He thought he'd had her pegged; thought that he knew what she was all about. And all he could see now was this teenage girl, uncertain of what she wanted. He knew that was normal, but Rachel Berry had never been normal.

"So why tonight?" he pressed. He didn't exactly care; more like he was curious about what made the Bizarro Berry tick.

Rachel sighed. "If you must know, the proverbial straw that broke the camel's back came about after our discussion of my summer plans."

"Which are…?"

"Originally, I had my normal singing, acting, and various dance lessons, a role as Princess Fred in the production of _Once Upon a Mattress_, and…well," she hesitated. "I had planned to pursue my potential relationship with Finn."

Puck was amazed by the amount of activity happening in her world. His plan was to date Quinn and clean pools—period. "And they don't like Finn?" he guessed.

"It's not Finn; they just don't think I should squander away my summer running around with some 'high school crush'," he could hear the ire that colored her voice. "They've signed me up for…_rhythmic gymnastics_."

Puck's face mirrored her own in disbelief. He'd watched his sister do ribbon dancing, which was all that rhythmic crap was really. He couldn't believe that teenagers did it, that _Berry_ would do it.

"So what'd they say when you told them no?"

"They proceeded to recite a long lecture about doing what it takes to be the best and sacrifice and other nonsense," she replied casually, looking at her watch. "Crap; they'll be up in about an hour—I've got to go." She turned to wake up Kurt.

"Don't worry about it." Puck grabbed the small boy and threw him over his shoulder. "I'll get him to Finn; he'll get him to bed; no one will be the wiser." He watched her thoughtfully as she gathered her things in a meticulous fashion—the way the Rachel Berry he knew did everything.

"Hey, listen Berry…" he began. He paused, watching as she continued packing her things together, straightening her outfit. "Rachel!" he all but shouted.

She turned to face him, startled. "Look," he said, lowering his voice back to a normal level. "I don't know much about anything, but I think you can do better than this." He motioned to the empty bottle in his hand. "Seriously Berry? If you don't like the shit you're doing, stop doing it. Drowning in a bottle of Jack isn't going to change anything but the status of your liver."

She looked at him incredulously. She wondered if she should say something about the pot calling the kettle black; after all, he'd come to her tonight already drunk. Hell, his flask was still in his pocket. However, hearing Noah Puckerman say something supportive about her situation (or as supportive as he seemed to be able) was somewhat lifting, freeing even.

Maybe she was more intoxicated than she'd thought, but that simple statement—_if you don't like the shit you're doing, stop doing it_—made a lot of sense. She nodded, smiling at the likely looks on her fathers' faces when she repeated it to them. Damn it, she wanted to be happy. She didn't want to give up on being a star: she just wanted to experience life beyond it.

"Noah?" she said, watching his eyes meet hers. "Thanks; perhaps I simply needed some fresh perspective and apparently yours was it."

"Whatever Berry."

He watched her walk away, down the street, back to the real world. Puck checked his watch and was amazed that her dads (or anyone) would ever want to _wake up_ at four in the morning. Then he decided it was time to go back.

He handed Kurt off to Finn, having woken him up just before he got there. Finn was a good guy; after being assured the kid was okay, he'd just accepted him without question. Or maybe it had less to do with Finn trusting Puck and more to do with him being practically dead on his feet. They said their goodbyes and he headed back to Mike's.

* * *

The four of them never talked about that night. When school started up again they didn't became closer or more understanding of each other for it. Even for Rachel and Puck it faded into the fuzzy recollection of a dream, where they couldn't place whether it had truly occurred or not.

Still, Rachel had followed Noah's advice—she actually set her foot down and refused point blank to do rhythmic gymnastics. And she had insisted that she be allowed to date Finn so long as it didn't interfere with her regular schedule. They had been angry with her choice, and she'd been grounded for a week because of her attitude; but they did respect it. And while she didn't give up her midnight outings instantaneously, they slowly became much more infrequent until she began leaving the liquor cabinet locked altogether.

And, though she couldn't tell whether it was real or not, she felt Puck's mood lift whenever he saw her and Finn together: like he'd done something small, but vital. For him, it was a heavy feeling, but good; and he carried it with him with pride long after he'd forgotten its origin.

They were changed but didn't know it. For one night they had all shared a cross, and though they couldn't remember, it was still there, a part of them eternally.

* * *

…_So on the ocean of life, we pass and speak and speak one another;_

_Only a look and a voice, then darkness again and a silence._

-Henry Wadsworth Longfellow


End file.
